“I don’t want to speak louder.” Will raised the open box to his face. “I don’t exactly wish to be seen talking to a sprout.”

“Oh, excuse me,” said Barry. “Not posh enough for you, eh?”

“That’s not what I mean and you know it. But thank you again for saving my life.”

“At your service, chief. I suppose you’d like me to send you on your way home now.”

“I’m homeless at present,” said Will, dismally.

“I mean to your own home, in your own time.”

“What?”

“Please, not with the whats again. I can send you home if that’s what you wish for.”

“Oh,” said Will. “Then you really are a genie.”

“I’m a Time Sprout,” said Barry. “From the planet Phnaargos. Brought here on official business to the twentieth century. Got knocked off course, though. Been helping out Mr Rune.”

“I really don’t understand,” said Will, who didn’t.

“It would take too long to explain now, chief. But if you want to go home, just give me the word and we’re off”

Will pondered. He placed Barry’s box onto the rugged tabletop, took up his mug of grog and sipped at it. It was not at all bad, considering all the bits and bobs that were floating about on its surface. Will wiped a wrist across his mouth and replaced the mug. “I can’t go yet,” he said.

“What’s that, chief? I thought you’d be eager to be away from here.”

Will shook his head. “This is absurd,” he said. “This is madness. A time-travelling sprout. Madness. I must have gone mad.”

“You’re fine, chief, you’re fine. I’m sure it’s a bit of a shock, but you’re fine. Trust me, I’m a sprout.”

“Well, I can’t go just yet. I’ve sworn to avenge the death of Mr Rune. To bring Jack the Ripper to justice.”

Barry whistled. “You really don’t want to get involved in that,” he told Will. “Let me take you back to your own time, that would be for the best.”

“I’m staying here,” said Will, “until I’ve done this.”

“You really don’t know what you’re getting yourself into, chief.”

“I don’t care. I’ve made up my mind. It’s a matter of honour, if you like.”

“Good lad, chief. I respect that. And it’s what I hoped you might say. So it means that I’ve finally found the right fellow. Pop me into your ear and we’ll get started.”

“What?” said Will.

“Chief,” said Barry. “Could you drop the ‘whats’?”

“Sorry,” said Will. “But what are you talking about?”

“You’ve had my box open too long. I can’t survive in the air for more than a couple of minutes. You’ll have to stuff me into your ear. That’s the way I do business.”

“No,” said Will and he shook his head. It was a very definite shake. “I have no intention of stuffing you into my ear. You wouldn’t fit anyway.”

“I’ll meld in; it will be fine. Trust me.”

“I don’t trust you. We’ve only just met.”

“I saved your life, didn’t I? And I can help you out. You’ll find I’m a really helpful chap.”

“No,” said Will. “It’s out of the question.”

“Then I’m sorry, chief. For the both of us. You’ll never return to your own time and, as for me—” Barry made little coughing sounds – “I’m a goner chief, sorry.” And, “cough cough cough,” went Barry some more. And, “croak,” and, “gasp.”

“Stop it.” said Will. “I don’t believe you.”

Barry made a ghastly strangulated sound. And his leafy person began to visibly wilt.

“Stop it,” Will plucked Barry from his box and shook him about. A big bargee caught sight of this and looked on with interest. He nudged a smaller campanion and pointed.

“Wake up!” Will shook Barry about some more.

“Fading fast, chief, goodbye.”

“Stop it! Stop it! Oh dear me!” Will took the sprout and pushed it against his right ear. There was a kind of sucking sound and then a terrible plop.

“Oooooh!” went Will.

“Bugger me backwards,” quoth the big bargee. “Did you see that, Charlie, or are me peepers playing pranks upon me brain box?”

“See’d it meself,” said Charlie. “Pushed a gherkin right up his nose.”

“No he didn’t.” The big bargee smote his smaller counterpart. “It was a little cabbage what he had, and he rammed it into his ear’ole.”

“Why would he want to do that?” Charlie asked. “Gherkin up your nostril makes good sense, done it many a time meself down in the horse latitudes. Staves off the scurvy and clears the sinal passages. Or is that a cantaloupe I’m thinking of, or possibly an aubergine?”

“You, boy,” called the big bargee. “Undertaker’s lad. What did you poke in your ear just then?”

“Ooooh!” went Will once more and he clutched at his head.

The big bargee approached Will’s table. “Come on lad, out with it.”

“Can’t get it out,” Will groaned and clawed all about his head.

“Calm down, chief,” came a voice from inside it.

“Aaaagh!” went Will. “Come out of me.”

“What are you up to?” The big bargee reached out a large and tattooed hand.

“Get it out of me,” wailed Will, leaping to his feet.

“Calm down, chief, I’m nice and comfy in here.”

The small bargee called Charlie said, “Put your finger up your empty nostril then blow down the other.”

“It ain’t up his ’ooter,” said the big bargee, “it’s in his lug’ole.”

“Get it out!” Will began to beat himself about the head with his fists. Which drew the attention of the one-eyed Barlord.

“Now now now!” this fellow shouted. “What’s all this commotion?”

“Lad’s got a cucumber stuck up his arse,” said the small bargee.

“It was never a cucumber.” His larger companion smote him once more.

“And stop with the smiting.” The small bargee kicked his persecutor in the ankle.

The one-eyed barlord reached under his bar counter for his peacekeeping knobkerry.

Will howled and beat some more at his head.

“Ow!” went Barry. “Stop doing that.”

The big bargee hit the small bargee and the one-eyed barlord hopped over the bar, most nimbly for a peg-legged man.

Will lurched forward, overturning his table and spilling grog over bargees great and small. The one-eyed barlord swung his knobkerry and brought down the lady in the straw hat.

“Get out of my head!” shouted Will.

The big bargee punched the small bargee and the small bargee took a swing at Will.

“Incoming!” cried Barry. “Duck, chief.”

Will ducked and the small bargee’s fist swung harmlessly by.

“See how helpful I am,” said Barry. A three-legged stool sailed through the air and knocked Will from his feet.

Will collapsed onto his blanket bag.

“I think we’d best make tracks, chief, places to go, people to see, all that kind of stuff.”

“Get out of my head,” wailed Will, wriggling a finger into his right ear.

“No can do, chief. Fatal consquences and all that. But I’ll be no bother and I don’t take up much room.”

The one-eyed barlord now took to kicking Will with his timber toe. But then he went down amidst the growing number of flailing fists.

“We really should be on our way,” counselled Barry. “Bring your blanket bag of goodies and Mr Rune’s cane.”

Will now hastened to oblige.

As further fists were thrown and mighty oaths given voice, as bargee belaboured bargee and Jack Tar battered Jack Tar, pure-gatherer struck pure-gatherer, and a wandering bishop who was in the wrong pub punched Popeye the sailor man, Will crawled away to take his leave in the manner known as hurried.